Loss
by bhut
Summary: People are talking about what they lost after the dust in IICY settled.


Tom.

I lost her.

I don't know how, but I lost her.

I lost her too.

As my grandfather tended to say, "It's a sad, sad time in life when a Sloane loses something". Well, my grandfather was a piece of work in his own right, but this time he was right. Or almost right, now that I think about it…

My mother, a very wise woman in her own right as well, uses to classify people by the times of the year – it's something that she picked-off that Guay woman, I believe. Only, unlike her, mom's _good_, and by "good" I mean that she actually makes it work.

Now, you might be thinking – "how pathetic _is_ this guy? His girlfriend dumped him, and he tries to find comfort in the arms of his mother". Well, you are right, if that's what you're thinking – I _am_ pathetic, but for a different reason…

Anyways, back to my mother and the Four Seasons. I had never listened to her for real, but that bit about the Four Seasons stuck – and now I can't get it out of mind.

When I met Jane, it took me short time to realize that she was Winter – all black and white like the forest in January, clear-cut blue crystal eyes of wintry ice, wearing her red coat like a cloak of Father Christmas. She was easy – she didn't really look for a boyfriend, just another friend, or possibly just some brief romantic interest. Only… only she had gotten confused, and stuck with me. For a while, it was fun – fun like spending a day outside – a fresh sunny wintry day after being cooped-up inside for too long. And that's exactly what happened. For too long I had to deal with the daughters and nieces of my father's friends, they all are like Ancient Greek pottery – impressive outside, but empty inside, ready to be filled with… eh, you get the point. And Jane – she was different.

She was a tomboy.

She was independent.

She was winter, and eventually she frostburned me.

Now, I know what you must be thinking: this is from a guy who had cheated on his ex-girlfriend with his best friend, who is another ex now, and so he's feeling justified. Well, you want to know the truth? Me and Jane were through way before Daria showed any interest in me – and why? Because she got bored. Truly, Jane has but one passion, but it is fiery – her art. Daria understood this in time and so her friendship with Jane persevered; I didn't and we failed.

And Daria got dragged into this mess.

All right, all right. For the sake of subjectivity I admit – _I_ dragged Daria into this mess because I couldn't help it – I needed warmth. I needed Daria's warmth after Jane's biting cold. I needed Daria's warmth… and I miscalculated.

Badly.

For you see, whereas Jane's Winter, Daria's Autumn – the elusive and mischievous warmth of September, plentiful bounty of October – but also the death of nature of November, and that made it worse. For you see, a winter _is_ already dead (if Jane learns about it I don't think I'll care), but an autumn actually has to look at death as its natural prospect, and that, I reckon, makes it worse. It certainly felt worse to me, when I lost her, I had her and I lost her to… what? Our relationship as boyfriend-girlfriend had died died slowly and painfully, like a fire in the night, leaving nothing behind, nothing but cold dead black coals. And that knowledge currently eats at my soul like acid, and even my save of "can we still be friends" runs paltry even to myself.

I lost her.

I had her and I lost her.

So, now what am I to do?

Andrew.

I lost her.

I can't believe it that I lost her.

I've lost my little girl.

Look, I'm sorry at going-off like that, I really am. See, I've learned and mastered the art of self-control a long time ago since now, and this… has caught me really unexpected. (Possibly, there are other words to use instead of "unexpected", but words also are currently failing me.)

Hey barman, another drink to a man with a problem, and well, do I have it! You see, my eldest daughter, the apple of my eye (so to speak), my Jodie is lost to me forever!

Now, I know what you're thinking. That I am an oppressing tyrant that can't stand the actual notion of his daughter slipping through his grasp. Well, let me tell you something: through my life I have seen both the oppressors and the oppressed, and let me assure you that oppressing people is a whole lot better than being oppressed. And let me add to you something else: if you've lived with my wife for as long as I have, you'd have to decide quickly which one you'll be for the rest of your life…

Well, I suppose that I _can_ blame history for the way I am, for the way Michelle is, I suppose so… You see, what Jodie doesn't understand, that when we were her age, the racial segregation was proclaimed a success only recently, and quite a few people seemed to find this not to their liking, and I'm talking about both sides here people, _both_ sides. Jodie's lucky that she never met any of her grandparents – they would've made me and Michelle look tame, but guess what – maybe it's too bad. Maybe then she'd see that being among other people of our race isn't such a good idea – for underneath our skins we're just as bad and diverse a bunch as the "white folk".

Oh, don't start giving me lip about the Oppression – let's get some things straight. Our Enslavement by the "White Man" was a bad, bad time – no doubt about it. But there's no way that you'll convince me that if the historical tables had been turned, we wouldn't have done onto the "White Man" what he did onto us. I mean, I am not the most well-read guy around those parts – my business and my family eats-up most of my time, but even _I _know about the Apartheid that is currently taking place amongst "us" and anybody can see that it's monstrous. And it's been done by "us". Makes me real proud to be sharing that color, let me tell you… but I digress.

Or maybe not. I mean, the point is that if Jodie would just stopped complaining about her life and thought beyond her shell, she would – hopefully – come to the same conclusion as _I_ have, for I only had her best interests in my heart. And instead… she reserved to sneaking, doing things behind my back – Michelle's tactics. It was then when I realized that I lost my girl to _her_.

I'm sorry; did the vehemence in my voice startle you? Well, I am sorry, but Michelle... she and I aren't doing it so hot right now.

You see, Michelle never wanted any kids? Why? Because she wanted to be a career woman. She has no idea how a person can balance a family and a career… and hates all people that can. And, that's our difference. You see, I am jealous of such – people not hate them. Not at all. For they are the better people. Even the bumbling Jake Morgendorffer whose business is going "so-so" at best has two loving daughters that truly love him, for all their ways. Me? I have Rachael that constantly whines about Jodie rather than doing something about it, and Jodie, who has taken after her mother as well.

But I digress. You see, Michelle is filed with bitterness – thick bitterness, vitriolic even, and that bitterness infects both of our daughters. As for Evan – I don't know, but I hope that my son will prove to be a better man than all of us. (Of course, maybe my age is clouding my judgment - after all, neither I nor Michelle is spring chickens, and Evan was a surprise for both of us, though Michelle enjoyed it far less than me.) But back to my girl.

You see, I loved my first girl, love her still. And I only had her interests in her. But she chosen to have her own interests and I daresay that I fear this is only the beginning of the rift…

So here you have it: a man whose armor has cracked because he had lost something that he loved.

Someone that he loved.

My baby girl.

Sandi.

I lost it.

Out of the blue I have lost it.

Now how could this have happened?

Well, Mr. Listener, in case you haven't realized, but I am talking – of course - of my Fashion Club, what else? What else that I have that is – was – mine, but is so no longer?

Only my club. My Fashion Club.

Now that I think about it… I still can't find any reason why it just… dissolved, like morning fog. One moment it was there, the next… it was gone. Finished. Caput. And there was nothing that I could do about it.

Well, I suppose it could be considered Quinn's fault… no, it can't. Quinn honestly took her sabbatical… and she honestly cared about the Fashion Club, honestly enough to fix me back to my old self – after all, it couldn't have been just because of _me_ – I mean, we can barely stand each other, right? And yet it was the usually meek and demure Stacy that set those fatal wheels in motion…

Okay, let's clarify things: I _do not_ believe in curses. Quinn might, what with her whole "guardian angel" hubbub, but I don't. My laryngitis had a perfectly natural reason… and besides, it was Tiffany that drank Stacy's cure, not me. Ergo, Stacy's wish was not real.

On the other hand, though Stacy's curse didn't work, she certainly proved herself a real witch. I mean, Quinn for all of her posturing is usually that – posturing. She didn't want our club to dissolve, she just wanted to brag. But Stacy, Stacy – she used that posturing to make it something real.

Alright, so Tiffany joined-in as well. But… but just look at her! Listen at her! Can anybody take her seriously, for seriousness' sake? That's right, nobody does. Not even that quarterback buffoon that got hold back a year. Well… maybe everyone except _him_. The thing is Tiffany is just that – Tiffany, a china doll of that firm. (Well, not literally, Tiffany is really from Vietnam or some other place, for all importance that it has.) As soon as she heard two out of three (she never counts herself) people speak one and the same thing, she did the same. Pathetic.

And those people destroyed the Fashion Club!

Well, okay, so I did as well. Well, what could I've done? Quinn was always Stacy's friend, not mine – right? Right? It's been like that for a while, Quinn usually going onto me with Stacy sometimes joining in, and Tiffany usually standing on the sidelines. Of course, I always won. After all, I was the president of the club, Quinn – just the vice-president, and we both knew it. Know it.

So why did Quinn help me regain control of the Club earlier in the school year? Can it be that Stacy was _so_ inept in running it that Quinn's conscience overrode her friendship with Stacy and made things right again? Then, why did she didn't back out back then? Why? Because of her the Fashion Club is gone!..

Oh, alright, so we still hang around for old times' sakes and so on, but it's not the same, is it? For it was we would have returned the Fashion Club, wouldn't we? I mean, we are doing pretty much similar things, so why did we end _that_, somebody answer me!..

Answer me…

My – Our – Fashion Club.

We had it and then we lost it.

So can somebody tell us why?


End file.
